


My Boss bought me a Dress

by mAd_parnes



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Case Fic, Crossdressing, Loss of Underwear, M/M, Shaving, Undercover As Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mAd_parnes/pseuds/mAd_parnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid plays bait to catch one or more unsubs who target young gay crossdressers. He feels like an ugly ducky and like a failure in Hotch's eyes, whom he has a secret crush on.<br/>It wouldn't be a proper crossdressing fic if no godmother fairy appeared and (waved his stick...I would say, but Francis wrote the new summery and his mind is not constantly in the gutter) transformed the ugly ducky into a beautiful swan.<br/>When Jo first posted this, he decided for an elaborate summery. It still can be found in the notes.<br/>I sincerely hope you enjoy our story.<br/>Francis</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Fair Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Reid is unsub-bait and crushing on Hotch. This's also a fic for people who like to see him with Morgan or Rossi, they not'll not do him, just pretend, but there will be dancing and lapdancing(2.Ch), I give away too much, but I know u people still read it...Like I always read it anyhow as soon as there is crossdressing or cuddling(sorry no cuddling here)  
> There are no warnings, because for a change we wrote pure happyfic(was not easy, I wrote the first draft when they killed Reid's girl – I took a vow never to watch CM again, I did not break it...for full three hours)  
> Oh and my beloved ladies of CM are not listed as character because they fail at being Reid's handmaidens(that's a job for a real man(Dean Winchester has handmaiden listed in his resume...Uhh bad train of thought, now the plotbunny is out of the hat)) they are therefore degraded to function as back up and are not allowed to play with Reid(maybe next time, but I make no promises, those three and Reid make a mental image that remembers me way too much about my first sexual experience...)  
> Will post nd Chapter soon, as soon as my stage-shy colleague and my controlfreak muse get over the fact I posted this without their permission – wish me luck – xxxJo  
> PS  
> Prologue is kinda vague on the PoV, but that is just because I am too lazy to change it, the rest of the story is Reid's PoV

 

My Boss bought me a Dress

 

by Joseph Wurst & Francis Garcia

 

 

Prologue

 

The first night was an absolute catastrophe.

From the idea born to them dropping him off at _Deluna's_ it was only eighty three minutes and it were the single-worst eighty three minutes of Reid's life. Followed by the worst four hours of his life.

Had someone asked him which experience was more humiliating, the dressing up before all eyes or the pimping himself out and being turned down by men twice his age, he would have been unable to decide.

But everyone could see which moment was the worst for him:

“Tomorrow is Saturday. Should we not hear about missing persons within next twelve hours, Saturday night gives us another chance to lure them out.”

No one reacted to Reid's devastation by Rossi's words.

“Dave?”, Hotch asked Rossi to the side and they talked privately about an idea of Hotch's he did not want to share with the police officers.

Reid desperately wanted to wipe off the red smear on his face, JJ handed him a napkin. Morgan tried to reassure him, tomorrow he would do better, maybe someone would even buy him drinks, but it came out with a laugh and Reid bolted.

It only fit, how this lovely night would end in the police station toilet, alone, struggling with the zipper of his dress and finding out, that simple soap and water did nothing to stupid paint on his face.

Morgan acted apologetic, but only JJ and Prentiss were there to witness it and they felt kinda bad themselves. It had been surprisingly difficult to do Reid's makeup and in the end he had looked a little bit ridiculous. The dress lent from vice squad had hung a little bit too loose on his body. The tights had done a lousy job covering the fact, that he had had no time to shave and the wig looked, well like a wig. His ability to walk the slutty high-heels without falling was ruined by Morgans question where he learned to do that.

Reid had turned to Morgan, promptly falling down. No one paid attention to his explanation while they heaved him on his feet again; men were actually better suited to wear high-heels, narrower hips meant your weight was more centered when you walk.

He swore he did not sprain his ankle by the fall, but he had walked like he did.

All in all he was not the most prettiest girl at the ball and the prince was either not interested in badly done drag or he had found someone to fuck and torture earlier in the evening.

When Reid stood under the spray of the shower he did not wish for the unsub to have found someone, so that he would not have to go through this again, but he was close to.

 

 

_Everything in the world is about sex. Except sex. Sex is about power._

 

Oscar Wilde

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

My Fair Lady

 

Saturday was a long day of fruitless work. Even Garcia yawned into the phone instead of having her wicked way with Morgan. But Reid wished it could have been longer. Anything to stall the inevitable.

At six pm. Rossi turned up terribly frisky and his hair slightly askew. He glared at them as if to challenge them to say something.

Morgan murmured something. “What was that?”, Rossi asked. “You got a problem with my powernap? Maybe our good doctor can list you the advantages of not working till you-”

“Chill, man. Nap all you want as long as you don't sick RamblingReid on me afterwards.”, only when Rossi turned his back to him, Morgan grinned and mouthed towards Prentiss “ _Old people need their sleep.”_

How Rossi could have seen that was beyond anyone, but for a minute they all thought he did, because-

“Reid”

“Power naps of less than 30 minutes—even those as brief as 6 and 10 minutes—restore wakefulness and promote performance and learning. A University of Düsseldorf study found superior memory recall once a person had reached 6 minutes of sleep, suggesting that the onset of sleep may initiate active memory processes of consolidation which—once triggered—remains effective even if sleep is terminated.”

Rossi stared at him, more than usually while a ramble.

“I just wanted to ask you, if you have shaved your legs?”, he said.

Some might would have mistaken Reid's next words for payback, but really it was just his brain taking over because he did not want to talk about his non-shaven legs. “Oh, I thought you wanted me to explain the powernapping to Morgan for talking behind your back.”

He did not witness the fallout of his explanation, because he fled the room.

 

How he could have forgotten to shave his legs when he was in the shower yesterday was inexplicable, it was one of the most prominent things on his mind at the time. His legs were ugly enough, he really didn't want to imagine them with razor burn.

With a thump his satchel landed on the bed.

Followed by two very polite tapping noises.

Someone was at his door.

To solve the mystery he opened said door and found Hotch with three shopping bags waiting outside.

“May I come in?”

At loss what his superior wanted from him, he waved an invitation, remaining silent.

“Yesterday was a disaster.”, Hotch stated.

Oh, so Hotch was here to make sure he did not mess up again. Without meeting Hotch's eyes Reid closed the door and waited for the speech. He did so not need this right now, not when he was about to attempt to shave his legs with a razor that had earned more frequent flyer miles than the average airsickness bag.

He did not wanna show his anger, not when the main reason for it was how much he hated to disappoint Hotch. He had no words for how impotent he felt in this situation, for he would disappoint Hotch again before the night was over; there was nothing he could do.

“I am sorry.”

Reid looked up. Why would Hotch apologize?

“I am really proud how professional you acted under the circumstances.”, a sad and sincere smile followed Hotch's words. “But you had no chance to do your job. There was no time to coach you for the scenario. And to be honest you looked like a clown.”

Reid's face reddened, but he took no offense on the statement; not the slightest hint of mockery showed in Hotch's voice and beside that, it was true, he had looked like clown.

“So I thought about a few changes for tonight.” As if on cue for suggestion Hotch set the shopping bags on the bed. “No high heels, no tights, no wig, no red lipstick...” Reid heaved a sigh of relief. “...no underwear.” And this last part promptly cut off his air.

“Why?”, he did not exactly know how to phrase it more explicit.

“Yesterday you looked like a badly dressed prostitute and this establishment is frequented by men who search for non-paid companions.”

Reid really did not want to ask again, but that didn't answer his question why he should go there not-so-figuratively-buttnaked. “That explains why I shouldn't wear red lipstick, not why I can't wear underwear?”

“Dave and I agree to come back to the original theory, of only one unsub, not three.”

“But the three different sperm samples...”

“Only the unsub left sperm in the wounds. We think the other two man are to neglect.”

A farfetched theory, because it would implicate, ”That would mean Timothy Jones was with two man before he left with the unsub. Are we sure he did not turn tricks?”

“While a rich family is no guarantee, it is highly unlikely.”, Hotch negated his doubtful inquiry. “Rossi spoke to them and his mother reminiscenced fondly of the time when she dressed her little boy as a fairy princess. They did not disapprove of his lifestyle or withhold money from him, when pressed the father stated, Timothy would sometimes send his one-nightstands expensive gifts, when they became clingy. Rossi said he did not feel any resent from the father, he merely excused his son's sometimes excessive behavior with youth.”

“So we think having three partners in one night was the usual for him?”, after all this off-putting events, like Hotch coming here and asking him to drop his panties(yes that was the phrase that had blocked his mind before), he finally found some ground again. This was a case and working it gave him stability.

“Malcom Walt alias Patricia never worked at the _Deluna's_ , but he was very well known there.”

“Do we have confirmation that he was the first victim?” This was what Reid hated second most about this case. Every question could only be answered by an educated guess. The only thing they knew for sure was the hunting ground of the unsub: _Deluna's._ Maybe. If, emphasis on the if, this was a serial killer and they weren't just chasing their tails. The downside of being called in early: not enough dead bodies, not enough information.

...Hotch ended his theory. Reid nodded it off. It made sense, but so did Edgar Allan Poe's scientific fiction.

“So the type of victim attracting our unsub is openly promiscuous. In crude words you wanna dress me as a slut?”, he thought his voice transported the appropriate calm of an experienced agent, but probably his words had betrayed him.

“No. That would not make you stand out in a favorable way. You just do not look... sluttish.”, the word came off Hotch's tongue as if he had never used it before and still contemplated it's right to exist. “Every attempt to dress you up like that would end the same way as yesterday. So you have to convey with behavior what you cannot show with costume.”

The teeny tiny part of Reid that was hysterical since he was assigned to go undercover let out a small hysterical laugh. “Hotch have you met me?! I can't pull off - _sluttish_ \- not in anything at least in behavior.”

“You can learn.” The faith in his learning curve was touching, but really unrealistic.

“Not within the next three hours.”

Hotch stared him down. “That better be not true or I have to assign someone else.”

“There is no one else. Not one officer that is tall, slender and fits the age.”, that was the only reason he accepted without making a fuss. He sat on the bed between the mess of his satchel and the shopping bags. “I am sorry.” He was used to fail in human interaction, but not to feel so stranded while working a case. “I will do my best tonight, even if it isn't much.”

Hotch moved the bags and sat beside him, very close. Really close and not by accident. Reid's pulse sped up, Hotch didn't do awkward things by accident, therefore he never felt awkward, he made feel awkward.

“Reid, do you trust me?” He managed to remain motionless till Hotch asked his question softly. In an incongruous action he moved away and answered. “Sure.”

Those dark eyes bore into him, but not cold, never cold, still he shivered. “Then just let me walk you through this.”

Reid was vaguely aware that he nodded.

“It is a very easy mindset to get into.

As the one you will impersonate, what is you want?”

He understood, he was asked to give a profile. “Sex. With more than one person?”

“Not necessarily with more than one, but in our scenario it would be preferable.”

How could one talk about sex in an even voice close to listlessness and avoid to sound dull?

“We can assume that a person who is attractive and not very picky doesn't have to worry about finding a sexual partner in this environment, do you agree?”

Reid only managed a very ineloquent _uhmm_ , with a short nod. For a moment he had fallen into wool filled zone of Hotch's voice, which made it hard to comprehend Hotch's words.

“Assuming one is assured of his effect on other persons, leaves one question to answer; how does one communicate interest for another person?”

Now they had officially entered the wonderland where none of Reid's knowledge had any validity. He wished he would have Morgan sitting on his other side whispering the answers for him to parrot.

“With words?”, even saying it he knew it was wrong. But even knowing a wrong answer was better than just gaping like a fish.

Hotch was very patient with him as he shook his head. “There is a reason why clubs have loud music. Words only get in the way of seduction.”

There Reid begged to differ. He knew a thing or more a thousand things about words in cooperation with seduction. “Ninety percent of poetry is all about seduction.”

“Probably, but the times where poetry was closely followed by the mindless grinding of bodies are long gone.” Hotch's counter argument made Reid gulp. Just the image he needed. Yesterday everyone shied away from him, he didn't want to imagine how he would react if they would do the opposite. Bodies grinding against his...

“Don't.”

“What?”, his voice was too high, he hated it when that happened.

“Don't psyche yourself out.” Hotch knew what he thought. Reid's big eyes had given him away. “You don't have to feel embarrassed, it is just me.”

The man had named the problem, it was Hotch. Professional, somber Hotch who gave him the Talk. This couldn't be more embarrassing.

Hotch's hand touched warm and lightly Reid's knee.

Later Reid would be very proud not to have bounced off the bed high enough to bump his head at the ceiling. At the moment he was just mortified, first because Hotch had touched him, second because he reacted all jumpy about something as little as that and third, because Hotch had groped his leg!

Alright he had not groped his leg, he had just touched him. And now Hotch apologized with a smile, sincere and a little bit uncomfortable. So it seemed to be that the abyss of embarrassment had no bottom, Reid just fell, and it would only get worse.

He sat back down. He could do this. Hotch was exposing himself here even more than he did. So he could pull himself together and carry on.

“What did I do?” Hotch asked all business and Reid answered as good as he could. “You touched me, what is the only way to communicate were words are lacking, body language. Very hard to fake, because communicating with the body begets emotion, within yourself and the one you are communicating with.”

“Good. How did it make you feel when I touched you?”

Another abyss, a different one, no less dark. “Jumpy?”

Reid looked up from his hands, to witness Hotch fighting hard and losing against a chuckle. Hotch shook his head, “I'm sorry. That was-” The first time for a long time Hotch got a laugh of him.

”-Okay, it was supposed to be a joke”, Reid had to laugh himself. “I felt unbalanced and that is not a joke.”

“Unbalanced.” Hotch tried the word out. “Exactly the feeling you have to inspire in other people.”

He let it sink in a few seconds.

“You cannot just grope a person genitals, while that is very easy to interpret it is also rude and does not suit your personality. We have to work with what you can believably convey. You are a profiler it shouldn't be to hard for you to find someone's weak spots.”

Maybe, but what did weak spots have to do with seduction?

“This unbalanced feeling is very is a big part of the emotions Lust and Love. But to put someone off balance is only the first part, the second is to act as if it was unintentional. That is childlike behavior and most alpha males react drawn to childlike attributes in females.”

“Big eyes, high voices, small, slim...”, he had big eyes and not only once someone had said he still came off as if he were fourteen.

“Playfulness”, Hotch provided. “A tilted head, that asks, _Did I do something wrong_ , accompanied with an apologizing smile.” An apologizing smile, it echoed in Reid's mind, _uncomfortable_ because there was something done wrong-

“Wait, did you unbalance me and then-?”

Hotch didn't even answer that, he just asked, “How did make you feel?”

Like he had to keep it together for Hotch. Protective. Strong. “Wow. You're good.”

“I practiced it with Rossi.”

“That's a joke right?”

“No, but it didn't work on him. He just raised his eyebrow and kept on reading.” Hotch smiled. “Maybe I should have told him I practice the seduction of alpha males on him.”

Now that was a joke and to Reid it should have been a warning, because Hotch joked so rarely it ought to be listed as a sign of the oncoming apocalypse:

“You should take off your pants, Reid.”

 

Talking about things to make a man unbalanced, put into a list, shaving-said-man's-legs made easily top ten. Especially when you stripped that man to his underwear.

“Why are you doing this to me, again?”

“So you can acclimate to intimate touch.”

“I know, I just need to hear it every two minutes or so.”

“Stop gripping the sheets like that.”, Hotch's voice did not betray his actions, those undisturbed long sweeps of the razor against skin. “It was you who pointed out, how nonverbal communication creates matching emotions, within the communicator and his partner. Right now you communicate stress. Communicate enjoyment and we will probably begin to feel it.” Hotch was very serious about this, he would just go on till Reid overcame his problems.

He bit his upper lip, he really tried to let go, but Hotch wasn't even touching him, just very carefully swept the newly bought razor over the skin of his thigh and still, it was way too much.

Hotch came to a halt. “Reid open your eyes.”

He did, he was behaving ridiculous, hysterical, why couldn't he let go?

“You know that you can stop me at any time? You are able to call all of this off at any time.”

The concern in Hotch's voice burned. Sure, the way he was behaving Hotch had to be worried he took this too far. Maybe even thought Reid would mistake his superiors attempt to help for sexual harassment. He shook his head without looking up. He had been a lot more naked and a lot more vulnerable at a much younger age, he could do this.

“Reid, look at me.” Hotch's hand grasped his leg right above his knee, his thumb brushing the inside of his thigh. He looked up, into Hotch's eyes. “You do not hear me, I didn't say that I promise to stop at any time.

I do not doubt your strength. I am saying, that it lays in your hands to stop me at any time. You have to get out of the mindset, that this is something that happens to you. To be submissive is not the same as being passive or weak or powerless.”

Hotch's voice was doing things to him, not manipulating only guiding, not a spider's net, but one of safety.

Those last minutes he spent propped up on his elbows, first watching every move, like Hotch would hurt him the second he did not follow Hotch's hand, like Hotch would do something unexpected and then watching became too much and his eyes were shut, strained like his hands.

“Stop for a moment.”, he asked Hotch. Because it was what he really wanted, he needed time to think. Hotch sat back up, watching him distantly, giving him time. Hotch would give him as much time as Reid asked for.

He let himself fall back onto the bed, feel the soft sheets underneath him and took a deep breath. Vaguely aware that Hotch still watched him, he did not watch back, he took in their surroundings. The bottle of shaving cream to his left, beyond it the towel that caught the used cream and Reid's hair, he figured some people would make a mess, shaving someones legs on a hotel bed, but not Hotch. All was carefully laid out, even Reid himself. Every touch of Hotch's and every stroke with the razor, attentive. And somehow in it he found the critical point, the crack to enter in, would Hotch be an unsub and this an interrogation.

“Go on. It's okay to touch me.” Like always when he was faced with someone who could take him apart with bare hands, he did his best work.

Hotch manipulated his leg with his left hand, sprayed on shaving cream at the inside of Reid's thigh, all while not letting go with his left hand and then picked the razor up.

Reid did not watch, he lay there, his fingers playing absently against the sheets, feeling their texture, letting Hotch take care of him, till the moment the razor touched his skin and began it's stroke.

Reid hissed and a small sound of surprised pain escaped his lips.

Hotch stopped dead, drawing a sharp breath himself.

“I am alright, nothing happened, I'm okay.”, Reid assured him. “We can go on.”, in a completely involuntary movement he arched his back briefly off the bed to relax himself. He didn't understand why Hotch watched that movement the way he did or what it did to him but he filed it away for later.

If possible Hotch's left hand became even more tender in it's way of holding his slightly bent leg. He put the razor against skin again and Reid's breath became more audible. When Hotch's eyes found his he bit his lip and after his teeth let it go, it quivered.

All shaving cream cleaned from Reid's thigh and the razor, Hotch began the circle again, creaming the skin, holding Reid's bent leg in position -and when it came to the first stroke he hesitated. Waited for Reid's attention, made certain, not to startle him.

Reid's big, fearful eyes gave permission for him to begin and this time he gave no sound when the blades started to cut off his hair. Gliding over skin, leaving it smooth behind, till the middle of the stroke, Reid flinched.

The jerk of his leg to the side only minor, but enough for the razor to catch skin. Hotch must have felt it too, because his reaction to pull away was too fast for it to be a reaction to Reid's broken sound.

It didn't even bleed. “I am so sorry.”, Hotch swiped a warm washcloth over Reid's skin, cleaning it of the remaining cream.

It was obvious he tried to end this.

Reid caught Hotch's hand on his thigh, held it there. “No, it was my fault, I flinched.” This wasn't over till Reid said so. “Please Hotch, it's alright, it didn't hurt.”, maybe he sounded a little bit too breathless, was it believable? “Go on, I promise I will stay still.”

“Reid. You don't have to-”

“I know. Please, go on. I will stay still.”, as if to prove he adjusted himself on the bed, skidded down a few inches, as if searching for the best position and that would be his foot between Hotch's kneeling thighs, his instep just not yet touching Hotch's groin.

Would Hotch want come any nearer, he would rub himself against Reid's shin.

It wasn't that his heart wasn't pounding against his ribcage because of what he just did, but the look on Hotch's face when he realized it, was worth a little cardiac arrhythmia.

“Please, Hotch, I don't want to stop, I can learn.”

He smiled at Hotch's unspoken praise.

“I will hold still, but just in case, you could hold me down, immobilize me-”while saying that, Hotch acted according the permission he was just given and caught Reid's calf in a tight grip.

This time the hiss wasn't an act.

It was a touch that should establish power. But Reid wasn't ready to surrender the power he just had had over Hotch, he wanted it back. And with the softest stir of his leg just millimeters _**up**_ , astonishment flared up in Hotch's look and he had that heady feeling back.

“We can stop here. I think you've learned enough.”, Hotch's phrasing brought back the reality of what he just did _**to his boss.**_

“Did I go to far?”, there was nothing playful in his fear and he knew that Hotch could tell the difference now.

“No. Do you want me to finish the shaving for you?”, there was it again, the caring warmth, that caught him safely.

“Please, do that.” He lay back, bending his leg enough, so that Hotch could move without touching him. It surprised him, that Hotch, after moving to the side, lifted Reid's leg into his lap.

“You still need to get used to someone touching you.”

Reid could only agree with that, a violent shiver of hot and cold ran through him when Hotch laid a hand on his exposed belly, as if he had any business there, stroking the hipbone.

Wouldn't the emotional rainbow from anxiety to cramping fear dominate his feelings, he probably would have been very sexually aroused by now.

And therein lay the problem, when Hotch went easy on him for the rest of the shave. A circle of predictable touches, without interruption, followed by a warm, wet cloth cleaning his skin.

That was nice, really nice. And luckily over before certain body parts caught on how nice the rhythmic strokes were.

 

When Hotch slipped the light purple dress over his head, he adjusted the stretchable cloth of the upper part and tugged the soft falling fabric into place till it covered Reid to the middle of his thigh. All of the dress that touched his body felt flossy, even the thin straps over his shoulders.

He should have felt ridiculous, but it was too good.

It made him feel so sensitive, that it gave him something of an electric shock, when Hotch's hands slid under the skirt of the dress, over the round of his ass pulling his underwear down. The fingertips touched skin while Hotch dragged away the last thing that made him Dr. Spencer Reid, Agent of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.

He was now someone vibrant, sensitive, who would go crazy if he was only touched by all this floss falling down over his ass and his genitals. But on the other hand did not care the slightest, that his boss picked up his worn underwear and folded it.

Hotch stepped away, rummaging through the shopping bags and Reid felt so at loss that he thought he would probably fall apart.

So this was how he would go, not inherited schizophrenia, but a super-soft dress and sudden touch-hunger driving him over the edge.

“Hotch”, luckily that yelp, made the unit chief realize in which unstable constitution the mind of his young subordinate was.

“I know you are nervous...”, Reid would have complained that Hotch didn't even begin to understand, but he was drawn into a hug, that left him with a much more solid feeling.

He was even able to laugh, when Hotch made a not very funny joke about Cinderella and slippers.

 

It was probably a stupid thing to think: He never before had noticed he had eyelashes. Everybody had them. Well nearly everybody, people suffering from madarosis had none, but still. Somehow what that little bit Mascara did to them was really strange. And what having eyelashes did to his eyes was stranger. It made them ridiculously large, but in a way all that coal yesterday failed. He clapped the sun shield up and so it's mirror away. No matter how this night would end, at least he wouldn't have to scrub his face raw again.

With a contemplative sigh, he tucked the strands behind his ear.

“Don't.”

He knew what Hotch meant, but it wasn't like he had done it on purpose. He just wasn't used to have his hair hanging in his face. Sure, it did always fall into his face, it was long, and that was what long hair did, but he always tidily tucked it back again. At a rough estimate 65 times every day. It would have been easier to quit smoking.

He tasted powdery vanilla when he bit his lip. Another habit, one he strongly had had to fight yesterday, or he would have smeared the red lipstick. With the pearly pink chap stick he used now this habit wasn't an issue anymore. Hotch was a genius.

One with very dubious skills. That were easily explained, during the process of applying rouge, not too much, but a little bit more, because of the shady light in the club, Hotch had said. With only two strokes he highlighted Reid's cheekbones. He had cheekbones.

He still wasn't sure, if he regretted asking Hotch about his hidden talent.

When he had told him about Haley’s love for theater, his voice had been void of any emotion. He had said, she had done a short play with her class every year. And for many years he had helped her, doing children's make up, rewriting scripts with her.

His answer hadn't been so short, that it would have been a brush off and yet he seemed uncomfortable talking about her. On the other hand it was good Hotch talked about her, or so he assumed. Maybe he also construed the uncomfortable vibe and misinterpreted what Hotch had shared with him, it was so hard to tell.

Hotch stopped the car, fiddled in his pockets and handed him the chap stick. “Refresh and tuck it away somewhere.”

Good thing his brain was just passive aggressive, because if looks could kill, Hotch would have been dead. Tuck it away? Where? He had no purse, because obviously he was expected to let others buy his drinks and have unprotected sex, so no bag to bring condoms. He hadn't even underwear he could tuck something away in!

He stared his baneful stare till Hotch caught on.

“Maybe into the elastic of the dress?”, Hotch provided absolutely unaffected. “You will want to refresh after certain activities and if you get nervous, you have something to do with your hands.”

Made sense.

That was the scary thing about Hotch. He still made sense, even when he listed the reasons to refresh lipstick.

 

A very curvaceous woman with a dark southern accent drooled all over Morgan.

The only wrong thing with the picture was, that Morgan had dimmed his mega-watt-charm to a level of professional civil behavior.

When she turned around, Reid knew why. Still very curvaceous, but no woman.

“Getta hell outa hea”, 'she' said when she had looked him up and down. “Someone beat me to it.”

The whole room stared at him. Reid nearly tucked his hair back in a nervous gesture, but he felt Hotch's heavy glare on him and in a last second he diverted his gesture, to fidget with the flower on the bobby pin in his hair.

The drag queen smiled a predatory smile, that maybe intended to be secretive, because she asked. “Now tell me dear, who was your gay godmother fairy?”

“That would be me.”, Hotch answered in a dry way that robbed her question all innuendo. “I thought it would be better if one of us dresses Reid alone. Many cooks spoil the bread.”

He was sure they would laugh, at least now after the shock had set. But some just nodded forlorn, as if to agree to Hotch's statement. Others:

“Well it looks-”, JJ began and then lost the words.

The dragqueen wasn't so shy. “-like a little girl dressed up her older brother, but somehow it's delicious. You should stay true to this look, darling, but only if you work in a safe place.”, a microexpression of genuine worry. “I thought I knew all the working boys in the scene, not knowing in the biblical sense”, and back to displaying a offensiveness bordering vile ingratiation. “Me, I just keep an eye on the young pubs.”, and now she winked at him ambiguously. “Speaking of which”, she turned and before he could sidestep her, she stroked Morgans biceps lightly. “You, strong man are gonna watch out for our Lavender Fairy, cause tha'are a lot of sick puppies in this club, not only your killer.”

He studied her, because she made Morgan unbalanced, but didn't gain anything from it. What did she do wrong?

“We wouldn't endanger a civilian-”

“Very reassuring.”, for once she did not let Morgan finish speaking. When she touched him again, he saw her other big mistake. She did not ask with her eyes, she did not apologize and she looked down on him. Her behavior was in one word: Emasculating.

“So you watch out-”

“For Dr. Spencer Reid.”, not that Morgan let anyone run him over, at least not for long. “A field agent. Not one of your working boys.” His voice had turned icy.

She looked at him again, only not really, she showed more genuine interest in the purple flower in his hair than in him.

“Oh”, the sound was fully artificial and as false as the apology. “Sorry for assuming.”

Her high-heels clicked down the hall and gone she was. Hotch's gaze followed her, and then he turned a slightly sour expression to the rest of them.

“She wasn't as bad when we asked her for help.”, Prentiss justified their choice. “Actually she was perfectly sweet, till Morgan failed to fall for her charm.

They didn't really hit off.”

Morgan shrugged in a defensive manner. Who did not know him, would have thought that the gesture was one disgust, when in fact, it was shame. A crack, a way in.

“I hope it wont be a problem with me.”, Reid said and waited till Morgan truly looked at him, before he gulped and broke off eye contact, like he was really worried how Morgan would treat him while he was dressed up.

“What, no, Reid...”, Morgan didn't even know where to begin to reassure him. “I would work with you if you were naked and on LSD.”

That made the whole team laugh and then a bit more, when Reid added. “Well, I am close to the naked part. And I just need seventeen minutes in a chem lab to mix the LSD.”

Morgan half hugged him and didn't let go till they left for the club. But his mood turned really angry in that forty minutes. Not towards him; just the opposite.

He bit anybodies head off, who talked, looked or breathed into Reid's direction, including Hotch. Who he called crazy, when Hotch and Rossi laid out the plan for the operation.

Maybe he had overdone it with appealing to Morgans protective instincts.

 

 

_Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn._

 

Benjamin Franklin

 

 

  
 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Pygmalion Effect

Chapter Two

Pygmalion Effect

 

 

 

 

_Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire._

 

Robert Frost

 

 

 

The ride to the club made him itchy under his skin. His stupid heart wouldn't stop thumping like he ran a sprint. Hotch drove, Prentiss rode shotgun and they were evening out minor parts of the plan.

JJ to his right, held his hand; he knew he had no chance to keep from her how nervous he really was, so he did the next best thing. He picked on her mind.

“JJ, you were a confident girl, right?”

She smiled her nod.

“But even confident people are nervous sometimes and they have to fake their confidence. How would you do that?” Probably get their squeaking voice under control first.

“Reid, you're going to be fine. Actually you already make a good impression of a confident girl. That blinding Thankyou-butFuckyou-smile you gave Officer Swanson made her choke on her own words.”

“I think she just realized how dumb her question was.” That woman had the nerve to ask if-

“No Reid, you _made_ her realize.”, Prentiss corrected him. “That's a big difference. And JJ, I didn't know you used such words. Naughty Girl.”

For all his nervousness he was in a much better mood than yesterday, because he actually laughed about Prentiss' reprimand.

Tonight, they had a plan, or how Hotch called it, a script. And he had exercised the trickier parts with Hotch and even if he had a total blackout, they others would go on and he could let them guide him through it.

If only Morgan did not mess it up.

“Hey, just because I am no big fan of your demented ideas”, Morgan defended himself after Hotch had voiced his doubts. “Doesn't mean I am not able to do team play.” Prentiss snickered for some reason at Morgans last words.

“For one, I do not understand, why I go first, and not last.”, Morgan sounded really reasonable, but he knew it was just for show. “No offense, but I am physically the strongest of us. I should be the one to stay in close perimeter to Reid at the end of the night when we have drawn the unsub out. Beside that, I would probably scare away creeps, that are not our unsub.”

“And therein, you answer your own question.”, Hotch replied. “No offense Morgan, you will come off as a scary boyfriend and that will probably keep away the unsub.”

“So you don't plan on being scary.”, Morgan retorted.

Hotch shot him dark glare through the rear-view mirror, but did not give a negative statement. But Prentiss did for him, “Scary, as in: Wait your turn, you can have him after I'm done. Not scary as in: You touch him, you die. Which is exactly the vibe you gave all the police officers back at the station.”

A very possessive hand gripped Reid's knee. “It stopped the catcalls, didn't it?”, Morgan said, as if he didn't just agree to be proved wrong. Reid wondered how nervous Morgan had to be himself to touch him intimately without really noticing. And he wondered what was wrong with him, that he enjoyed the place he put Morgan in.

“Yes, it stopped the catcalls.”, his acknowledgment sweet adoration, like he was really happy someone defended his honor. Probably this persona that screwed with other peoples' minds wasn't so foreign to him, because while the act was strange, kissing Morgan lightly on the cheek was easy, as long as he knew exactly what he wanted to achieve with it. “You stopped the catcalls very effectively. And that is exactly the reason why you will stay away from me after we”, he made an artificial pause. “What is the saying, JJ?”

She couldn't help but laugh. Her words at the station, describing Morgans part with him, still rang in their ears. Over the speakers they had heard a thump, but Garcia swore she had not fallen from her chair.

“You know exactly what the saying is.”

He smiled a guilty smile. “But I like it better when you say it”, he chirped, his tone making Hotch glare into the rear-view mirror again, potentially asking himself what a monster he created.

“You and Morgan will make the crowd _**hot and bothered.”**_ , JJ obliged grinning. 

 

It was already hot in the club. As it had been yesterday, but today he felt the heat lie itself over him like second skin.

He had entered alone after everyone else was in position. He already been here and he knew where to go and how to move slowly to the corner he would meet Morgan.

His concentration on his movements through the crowd dimmed out everything else, so it took a long time till he registered the stares.

No, not stares. Long looks, drawn by him, people, not only men, looked at him, like their eyes were somewhat glued to him. Awkward.

No. No, his persona wanted that, reveled in it, would bathe in all the attention. And would not care about any of them individually.

In character again, he made sure not to hold eye contact with anyone longer than two seconds, before his glance turned to someone else, entirely like they were discarded at first sight. Flirting with the whole audience was for later – Hotch's words.

He had searched long enough, time to find Morgan.

To dance with him.

A nightmare come true. He could not dance, it would look ridiculous and all of Hotch's hours of planning and preparation would be in the wind.

When he reached Morgen, he was so nervous, he slipped. How could one slip in ballerinas?

To stumble over his own gigantic stupid feet, that was how! Even mid-fall he knew it was over, no way he could dance. Morgan moved in and caught him.

A strong hand on his back pressed him close against Morgan and he looked up.

Eye-contact. One of the most important things, Hotch had drilled into him. Beside that his every move would be watched by the men around him. So he held eye-contact with Morgan because that signaled interest. When unsure what to do next, do the easy things, but them good, Hotch had said.

He could hold eye-contact and leave the dancing to Morgan.

He could do that.

Shit, he had to blink.

He wanted to tug his hair behind his ears, badly. Everything in his body itched to do so, but he didn't. He did what Hotch taught him, tilted his head to the side to make his hair fall even more into his face and hold eye-contact. Glance through the curls, that should intensify his look.

And with that little move of his head, Morgan followed the lead and his hand moved to Reid's hip, the other hand joined and it was so easy he would have liked to cry in relief.

Maybe dancing was a lot easier when you were moved around without any responsibility for your body. Because Morgan held him so close it would have been impossible to make a wrong move, one out of sync with Morgan and the music. All he had to do was let it happen and hang from Morgans neck.

He corrected his thoughts, all he had to do was to relinquish to pleasure and sling slithery arms around his fancier's torso. There, that would teach Hotch to underestimate poetry. Grinding bodies all around.

Oh my. They were not accidentally this close to him and Morgan. He could feel someone discreetly trying to hump his ass.

Morgan moved them away before it became less discreetly. Eye-contact. No need to freak out. He made people horny, which meant he did a good job and this would be all over soon.

Morgan's eyes were suddenly very close. Too close. He backed away in the last second before their lips would have touched.

They had talked about this. Morgan would not kiss him, not in this life, he said. Which had annoyed Hotch and made Rossi scream out how unfair it was that he had to, but they were not at loss for a Plan B.

Play coy. So he did his best to smile a 'sweet' smile after he had avoided Morgan's kiss. Then drop the coy act, lick his lips and stick out his tongue.

This was so ridiculous.

Morgan moved in for a second try, pressed their bodies even closer together, so he had to bend into an awkward shape to rebuild distance. He laughed into Morgans face and kissed him on the cheek.

Now they would retire for drinks. And a blow job.

After he downed his non-alcoholic drink he dove under the table. Not fun, but he would be in more embarrassing situations before the night was over. And at least he would be out of view for as long as a blow job went on. Let the people assume instead of see.

It left the work of acting like a blow job was happening here fully to Morgan. Who knew what a man on the receiving end of a blow job had to look like.

He tried to think up a sentence that had not the word blow job in it. Not easy while he rested his head between Morgans thighs and counted the seconds till this was over. Morgan touched his head and his hair, maybe to get himself into the scene or make it look more believable, it didn't matter. Mussed hair would add to his look.

His look. He started to chew on his lips. They should look used. So many things to remember. He should have made Hotch write them down. A real script would make it so much simpler to keep it all in the right order.

Morgan gave him the sign, it was over. That was short. Obviously he was very good at giving fake head.

He climbed up and was met by an audience. They would not waste any strain to the effort of doing anything else but blatantly watching him. He licked his lips and smiled sweetly at them. Now was the time to flirt with everyone who returned his eye-contact.

He renewed his lip-stick and threw himself into the mass of people.

He could do that.

Eye-contact. Just as with Morgan. Then move into their space, this time without tripping. And he was dancing. It made worlds of difference that he knew Morgan was only dancing a few feet away, ready to strangle any guy who tried to take liberties with him.

It was a simple principle. He left any of the man standing, who came too close. The ones that grabbed his ass even got a sly smile, or a deranged smile, he was not sure, he had no mirror, and then he would shake his head and move to the next eager dancing partner. After he counted fourteen men, it was time to find Rossi.

He made a scene to collapse at the bar stool.

And was handed a drink.

Real alcohol. Unprepared, he had downed it like the last.

He glanced at Rossi.

“You're welcome.”

Rossi moved closer. “Dave”

“Lavender”

“Pretty”

“My name or me?”

“Both”, Rossi played the rich elderly gentleman, who was used to get what he wanted, well. “Follow me.”, he just took Reid's hand as if there was no question his offer was taken. Way too sure of himself.

Reid walked behind him and pinched his ass.

When Rossi jumped and turned around, he just answered the surprise with a playful grin. Rossi's fault for handing him a real drink. On the job. Very unprofessional. As if Reid could not go through this sober.

Could he?

He would kiss Rossi.

And by this time tomorrow the whole Bureau would know about it. Rossi had joked about that. He said he would not do his part, because it was already standard to warn all female cadets about him. He wanted to avoid that it became protocol to warn all cadets, because they thought he assaulted Dr. Adolescence.

So when they found the table in the dark corner, perfectly shaped to give the feeling of privacy while in reality it was nothing less but a stage, he was nervous again.

Not so much because of the many watchers. He had this part of the script before him like he read it. Actually he had a vivid picture of how it would go down.

He could not do this, he could not kiss Rossi.

It wasn't like with the dancing the issue of not being able, but only...

He didn't know why he freaked out over this. It was just a kiss. Two mouths, two tongues, hopefully not too much spit. He didn't want to do this.

It was possible that this was the issue. He did not want to kiss Rossi. He could not find the motivation to do so in him. Not even for Hotch.

So when Rossi sat down Reid just skipped the whole first part that was all kissing and foreplay and crawled into Rossi's lap, straddling him.

“Easy kid.”

“But easy is all I am.”

Rossi laughed and it was genuine, there was a twinkle in the older man's eye, which promised he would suffer mockery in the future.

Rossi held out some money between his fingers. He took it, unfolded it so that anyone could see, only to tuck it back into Rossi's shirt.

“No really easy.”, he whispered into Rossi's ear, because short of shouting he would not be heard by his watchers. He trailed his tongue down Rossi's neck and had to note that he tasted good. Not sexually stimulating, more cozy. Familiar, he even found he was not in the slightest disgusted he just licked Rossi's skin. Interesting, for he knew, as few people did, that parts of the human's head were with much higher germ concentration than the area around the anus or the fingers. So his preference to chew on Rossi's earlobe rather than his thumb or other parts was highly irrational and only allegeable by socially acquired norms.

He fumbled with Rossi's belt, opened it and the pants and tried to get used to the feeling of hands roaming his body. Compared to Rossi, Morgan had been tame. More than once Rossi's hands rubbed the flossy skirt of his dress over his bare skin, drew it up high, so anyone could see his ass. He blushed a little bit and froze up when fingertips dared towards the cleft of his buttocks. Time to move this along, he turned around, sat spread legged on Rossi's lap, his dress covering up their groins and Rossi acted like he was fumbling to insert his dick.

They had a script. But he himself had thrown part of the script out of the window, please, he begged in his mind, let Rossi be shy.

“God yes.”, it seemed appropriate for being entered and just a humble Thank you to the deity that let Rossi leave his penis covered, like it had been discussed.

So when he started his rocking up and down movements, it was less mortifying to grind with his bare skin against Rossi's genitals.

He leaned over the table for leverage and noted, that for all the petting and soft noises Rossi made, he had not lied about being 100% heterosexual. His movements were very stimulating, yet still Rossi remained just as limb as he himself. Good.

Seconds counted into minutes and he had done everything right, the few times he linsed up, he saw the audience practically salivating over them. Still bowed over the table, they could not see he wasn't aroused and his dress neatly covered up the rest. He asked himself if Hotch had picked it for that reason.

It was time to bury one hand in his own groin, pretend to bring himself to climax. Rossi acted in order, gripped his hips more tightly and took control of the movements, met them with his own. He felt it and it made him blush furiously. And aroused him a little bit, for no good reason. Then he had to laugh, when a certain thought made it up to his mind and let his head fall forwards just in time, so people do not see.

Not 100% for Rossi, he had thought.

He did not forget to make his body tense over the faked orgasm and was thankful for his hair faithfully covering his face.

He spent some time with Rossi before he moved on.

Rossi was good company and entertained him genuinely instead of faking a conversation. So this was what it took to have Dave warm up to him – a lap dance.

He let Reid go with a kiss on the hand, dry and flattering.

Moving into the crowd resembled falling into the sea, the bodies licking at his like waves and covering him like they were a fluid instead of solid matter.

For some reason this sea parted for Hotch like they smelled something through the sliceable air, warning them to challenge him.

Only one of them tried to interfere after Reid had already hooked his fingers into Hotch's belt. Their kiss, so easy and natural, was broken when he felt a hand between his legs that wasn't Hotch's.

Hotch must have read from his reaction what had happened, in this jam of people unable to see anything else but Reid, but he knew, because he growled at the guy.

That wasn't good, not part of their plan; Hotch should not scare the unsub away and this man could be the one.

It had to be him who handled the guy, he could do it, he would do it. They wanted him, he had the upper hand.

He shoved Hotch off and raised his index finger in a warning. “Now that wasn't nice”, he scolded, loud enough so the man, who still had his hand under his dress, squeezing his buttocks in a most unpleasant way, would hear, before he turned to him. “A gentleman knows how to share.”, he added, addressed to Hotch, while he already took in the guy's appearance in. White, thirty to thirty five, short blonde locks, a smile that did not reach his eyes with the tension of disgust in the facial muscles around his nose and very sure, close to brutal hand groping Reid's front instead of his behind now.

He sank to his knees before him, catching the man completely off guard and pressed his face into the man's groin. He nuzzled the hard length through the damp, musky denim for as long as he could stand the smell, which wasn't long and then looked up abruptly. “You have to learn to wait your turn.”

Anger washed over the man's face and told Reid his message was heard. As if choreographed, which this part was not, Hotch pulled him to his feet, into his arms.

He was lead away so quickly by Hotch, he had no time to observe the man's further actions, but he could count on the others. They would see if he kept close while Hotch had his turn in the toilets.

Inside the stall, they did good on faking sex, both their hands on the partition wall, rocking together, they minded the noise, for it was quiet enough in here so everyone would listen in on it.

Hotch sneaked one hand to Reid's exposed thigh and slapped it lightly and repeatedly, the naked sound of fucking. Believable, but there were things that were real, like Hotch's breath in his neck, the half erect state of Reid's penis and his total blackout about the next step.

It did not help that the next step was the noisy climax and for that Hotch really pressed him into the wall, driving his hips into him and God, Hotch was hard too.

He moaned and as soon as Hotch's pressure on him lessened, he turned around and kissed him. For nobody to see, just kissed him. Hotch cupped his buttocks with both hands and Reid would have ridden his bosses thigh then and there, on the job, had Hotch not come to his senses and shoved him off.

Reid apologized very quiet and very often and Hotch not replying killed his erection pretty effectively.

A minute into the embarrassing silence, they could have left the stall, but Hotch held him back. He told him under his breath that there was one last thing to do, to make it look like Reid just had unprotected sex, twice within the last forty minutes. He handed him a small plastic bag with a milky white substance in it. “The unsub wont be able to tell the difference.”, Hotch told him.

“What do I do with it?”, more intriguing question would have been what _it_ was, he knew what _it_ was supposed to be, but what it really was...

“Put it everywhere it would have landed, your dress, your thighs, inside you.”, Hotch instructed. Inside him?

“Could I potentially be alone for that?”

“No.” Hotch looked at him, really looked, like in the hotel room, that hungry real look, that was not for show, but something Reid put there.

He bit a corner of the plastic bag off and put a good amount of the gooey stuff on his hand. He smeared it to the inner side of his dress' skirt and against his genitals and his belly, Hotch's eyes followed his hand, even as he brought it up.

“Are you concerned, as my boss, that I mess up without your supervision? Probably coat the wrong orifice?” With that he raised his fingers to his mouth and licked the residue away. “Or don't finish the job?” He squeezed the rest out of the bag and brought his hand to his behind, _inside him_ , he thought, before, not for the first time, but the first time with audience, his fingers breached his sphincter.

He did not moan on purpose, it was just, that he was so sensitive right now, his eyes shut tight he hoped he had not interpreted Hotch's hunger wrong.

He stuck out is lower lip in an inaudible second moan and opened his eyes just in time to see Hotch loosing it.

The kiss was wet and feral and deep and left Reid dazed and unable to comprehend why it stopped.

“Whydiyoustop?”

“Because I need you fully coherent on the job.”

“Do you need me virgin?” The words hardly out of his mouth he blushed brightly.

“You make me regret I didn't use my semen.”

It was the humor glistering in Hotch's eyes rousing the pout out of Reid. “It wasn't yours?”, he joked and then as an afterthought. “It tastes real.”

“It is real, far too hard to fake the taste, it just isn't mine.”

For a split second - then he boxed his boss for being so cruel in his rare humor. Hotch dodged his punch and laughed. It was a beautiful look on him.

“I want you to be careful.”, Hotch whispered to his ear, somber again, before he pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “We are all there watching out for you, but still I want you to be careful.”

Reid nodded, brushing his face against Hotch, taking in one last breath of him. “I know what I have to do. I've had a good teacher.”

 

Leaving the toilets and not looking back to Hotch was the hardest thing to do. After that everything fell into place.

The one with the blonde locks and the micro-expression of disgust approached him right when he entered the crowd again.

They 'danced', a synonym for the guy's hands grabbing and squeezing him, this time thankfully over and not under the dress. Maybe he caught on the fact, that Lavender was the one allowed to take liberties, not the other way around. Reid yawned artificially and asked if he wanted to go home with him.

“Here is fine baby.”, the man did not go along with Reid's offer.

“Don't you want to have proper space and time with me?”, he asked, giving him a good opportunity to take him anywhere, anywhere that is the killsite. The way arousal mixed with disgust in this guy's body language, it screamed wrong. But when he dipped his fingers to the cleft of Reid's buttocks and instantly flinched away from the sticky wetness, he knew he had not the unsub before him.

“I didn't think I'd have to work so hard for a used up doll to go down on me.”, he spit angrily before he wiped his hand on the dress with open disgust now.

He left Reid standing. But not alone. “What a brute.”

He turned around to the smooth voice. “I for myself would find myself fortunate to walk a delicate flower like you home. Lavender it is, right?” Over forty, balding, but not unattractively so. Impressive with an unobtrusive air that blinded one to a body built to break backs and faces. Gentle eyes, but Dhamer had them too.

He did not remember dancing with this man, but he must have been close to them, when he had introduced himself to Rossi. He must have waited outside the toilets like the blonde one.

Reid touched his hand lightly to the muscled chest of the potential unsub, as Rossi appeared out of thin air beside them. One drink in his hand he shouldered effectively between them. “Carl, I never got to tell you-”, they were swallowed up by the dancing masses and he never heard what Rossi told so importantly in his drunken state, only caught a glimpse of Carl's face, disappointment, not anger.

The man had not played shy, he was. Matched up with him waiting till the blonde guy left and not approaching him as soon as he was away from Hotch. A young woman bumped into him. “I am so sorry.”, she sweated heavily and her pupils were completely blown. “My-I don't feel...”, she stumbled over the words. “P..ease help me.”, she asked desperately, her unseeing eyes searched the crowd. “He said, but.. He said he would take me home, but I don' wanna...he... must've slipped me some...”, she was crying now, swallowed to make her voice and tongue obey her. “...'m so sstupid, I thought it's..s.. safe hea, I don't wanna, please.”, her hands clutched to his dress.

“It's okay.”, he put an arm around her to give her a steady feeling through the haze of drugs. “It's alright, you're safe, I'll help you.”

“Couldn't find... they left, I can not find the door, he...”

He had to somehow get her to go with Hotch or Morgan or he would loose the unsub's attention. He had ruled her out as a victim on first sight, she was unmistakable female. One of the girls that came to dance here. “Don't cry, it's fine, I know the club's security, Mor-”

The pain to his back was so intense his brain shut off and he lost a few seconds.

When he came to it still hurt and his knees hurt from falling to the dancefloor in a sprawled heap. High pitched, hysteric screams pierced through the music and the noise- The girl, he thought scared for her, till his brain caught up and he realized, it had been her. It could only been her shocking him, he had watched out for everyone else's movements, she had been the blindspot-

He heard Rossi announce FBI and felt people making room and Hotch was there. He helped him to his feet, asked him if he was hurt, but he couldn't answer, still busy breathing the pain away.

“A taser.”, he finally managed and turned to Morgan, who held the girl back as good as he could, because she fought him fiercely and screamed bloody murder. “Let me go you fucking fag! He slipped, I didn't do anything!”, she threw her head back and tried to bite Morgan.

Rossi took the opportunity to search her pockets and found a taser and a syringe.

Reid stared down at it and she noticed the horror in his face because her mask slipped and satisfaction marred her features in an ugly way. Their eye contact held long enough for her to see she was caught. “Jezebal.”, she spit at him and lunged for him, Morgan's hold not enough to keep her completely contained. “You will burn in hell! You will all burn in hell!!”

Morgan dragged her out of sight. The music had stopped and they could hear her till they left the building.

“Are you alright?”, Rossi asked and instead of answering he looked to his side, to Hotch, guarding him closely.

“I lost my chapstick.”

Rossi broke into laughter and elbowed Carl, who stood beside him and had done his part in shielding them from curious others – with the benefit of meeting his own needs of seeing what was going on. “I am sure Hotch will buy you a new one.”, Rossi said smugly, the innuendo made Hotch cringe, but Reid did not care as long as he was allowed to wear underwear as soon as possible again.

 

 

 

 

_Let us read and let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world._

 

Voltaire

 

 

 

 

Epilog

A dialog

Dave and Aaron

 

 

Paranoid schizophrenia with religious psychosis – an all time favorite. How was she coordinated enough to pull of three murders?

 

I don't know. But we can rule out any accomplices. At least in this we gained certainty.

What I don't know is how Strauss will react to after she read Reid's report.

 

Asking him if he wants to be on the receiving end of a table dive for once.

 

You're have a perverted mind, Dave.

And I am saying this as the one who made Reid believe he just smeared real semen on all his orifices.

 

Real semen? Should I ask what unreal semen is?

 

Unsweetened vanilla pudding, salt, aroma: Instant semen.

 

...How?

 

No, _How_ do you make fake edible sperm is the question Google recommends.

 

It is always the quiet ones.

 

Again _No_ , Garcia was a quiet one when I asked her to research it for me. Took her thirty seconds to reboot and tell me she could make me produce real edible sperm.

 

You made her day.

 

Her week. But I lost my formidable reputation.

 

After she made Christmas cards starring Cinderella, no one will care about you're reputation. You will only be known as that stern guy who is Dr. Franknfurters Unit Chief.

 

Garcia has pictures of Reid?

 

JJ and Prentiss made them with their phones. Do you wanna see them?

 

_Both looking at Rossis phone_

 

Aaron?

 

Yes?

 

Aroma?

 

Secret ingredient.

 

You're in an awfully good mood. I haven't seen you this hyper since Gideon and I got you drunk on Jägerbombs.

 

Maybe I took a leaf out of your book.

 

And what leaf would that be?

 

Detailed description on the art of courting a younger lover.

 

_Rossi thinks a little bit about this one._

Really. Reid. Mmhh. Kid's lucky for antifraternization rules, or you would have him married and housewifed in under a year.

 

I am not that much of a traditionalist.

 

No just painfully conservative.

 

How is gay marriage conservative?

 

I don't know yet, I will be able to tell on your wedding day.

 

You're being silly. I haven't even asked him out on a date yet.

 

Don't hide the ring in the dessert. Done that once, a disaster.

 

Broken tooth?

 

Broken Ring. And don't wear too tight pants, kneeling down can be a bit difficult at our age. You don't want to fall over, or need help when you stand up afterwards, that is always funny, but something you will hear for the rest of you life. Shouldn't I know it.

 

How did you ever get a woman to marry you?

 

Persistence. And the third proposal fail is on her. I had thought about everything, but only a psychic could have predicted her to be a closeted ornitophobe.

 

Were those proposal attempts all for the same woman?

 

Yes, the last Misses Rossi. It was jinxed from the beginning.

 

And the other ones?

 

My first wive was easy, excellent dinner without any rings in it, my knees were still good and she liked the orchestra and the doves.

 

And the second one?

 

Gideon's fault. Not mine.

 

He did not crash your proposal?

 

With the CIA in tow. But at least my second wife never accused me of being a workaholic because she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

Which is why I think this fraternization rules are stupid, we spend so much time at work it is virtually impossible to keep a wife longer than a few years, or do you see any longtime married agents in our unit?

 

What about JJ?

 

Doesn't count, not married.

 

And your solution would be to marry co-workers.

 

You and Reid are cutting edge for us. Morgan will sooner or later and make his girl a respectable woman. That leaves rest of the ladies for me.

 

JJ and Prentiss would eat you alive.

 

I will die from a heart attack with a smile on my face. Just as I always wanted to go.

 

You have a solid plan there.

 

Why do you think I set Reid and you up? Besides, I enjoy it to see your prankster side revived.

 

Good to know you think so, because channeling my inner prankster, I will highjack your plan, set you up with Strauss to have her on our side.

 

Mmhh. Misses Erin Rossi.

 

Now I gave you an idea.

 

Way ahead of you. The ring is white gold, 1,18 Karat.

 

...

 

I am joking. You should see your face.

 

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, we -its them(the poet and my mistress), me english good anuff when can make reader come - we search a beta reader, must know better English than I do and be okay to confer with my muse instead of me(for me a story ends with the last word written down, I do no proofreading or rewrite beyond the second draft...I have people for that) Her name is Bee, contact her over the comments, she reads those to me, out loud when I have my breakfast in bed, after she massages my feet...okay she does not do that, but a guy can dream, right? What else do I have but my dreams, here, chained to the writing table with her furry pink handcuffs, waiting for my mistress to come home?xxxJo
> 
> My colleague forgot, as always, the fine print:  
> Mainly we search a beta-reader to proofread our American-English, but also someone who has experience in writing, or proofreading British English too, for we wrote a CM/SPN Crossover featuring Crowley as a major character.  
> But American-English only would be great already, because we have a novel-length WIP, featuring Hotch/Reid settled in a universe with vampires out of the coffin. This story nears it's end and we would like to publish in late fall.  
> Sincerly, Francis.


End file.
